terms and conditions
by chalkia
Summary: He's only ever dreamt of her once in the rare, coldest night of June, lying in damp grass, resembling a bed of flowers. Staring at him. Speaking to him. Her voice sounded underwater, nothing stuck to him, only the shapes her lips formed. [au]


**terms and conditions.**

Riku doesn't recall when nor why he was told this, having insisted constantly he was incredulous and tired of hearing the same rumor over and over. Kairi, on the other hand, seemed to have brushed his complaints off, not shifting her weight on top of her books and continuing her muffled speech due the cherry lollipop over her tongue. She always came back with, as she liked to call it, "intel" on the school's witch.

The school's alleged, _literal witch_.

That term was loosely used, though. _Witch_ made up for a lack of better words around high-schooler twisted tongues that had surely bent the myth, too, despite how recent it was. Sometimes, Riku felt surrounded by incompetents who believed anything that supposedly would be in their favor.

Until he came to face her, that is.

What he does remember is how she's always sat before him on philosophy class, though there was the possibility that wasn't the only one. It's the single class he could confirm, the _only_ class he can see her blonde hair spill on her desk when she leans down to grab her pen. Then, he gets a glimpse of what she draws.

She draws deer and ravens and women with their hands around themselves. Riku remembers distinctly the day he saw her sketch a single crow sitting on a deer's back. Coincidentally, it happened when speaking of omens and symbolism. He feels like he knows her less when he realizes this.

Riku stands, unmoving. Catches the unbothered expression she wears next to the teacher's desk, and it makes the solitude of the classroom feel overwhelmingly present. He should leave. He wants to leave. He can't tell if he's willingly frozen or it's her doing.

"I don't understand what you're trying to get out of this."

She doesn't let him deny nor accept and leaves Riku with more than a question on the tip of his tongue. He bites it in what isn't frustration, but impatience.

It's not the next day he gets to have another minute or so alone in a classroom with her, or the day after. Or the week. It takes around a month of constant pondering, and at first, he didn't want to meet with the girl either. Avoiding her, though, was never complicated. It hardly ever happened when they interacted directly. They're too reserved for their own good, borderline prideful— at least he thought he was.

He remembers this when Kairi and Sora bring the topic up, for some reason or another. They're childish, that's what he'd usually think, but Riku doesn't notice how intently he had been listening to their conversation the moment Sora points out how _out of it_ he looks. Something he dismisses and excuses himself, taking his own route for his house.

There's the disrupting presence of crows in what seems to be almost every street corner like a noon-lit hallucination, opposed to a daydream. It interrupts the series of thoughts he has, about what Kairi told them. The witch's favors and what she asks in return, information unknown that no one dares to research. Unconsciously, he quickens his pace. He hears a flutter of wings.

As far as this month's gone, he's had several encounters with things beyond coincidence. He's only ever dreamt of her once in the rare, coldest night of June, lying in damp grass, resembling a bed of flowers. Staring at him. Speaking to him. Her voice sounded underwater, nothing stuck to him, only the shapes her lips formed.

What hasn't been a single case are the sightings of crows he's had, more often than he'd consider normal around the neighborhood. Not just there, but it seemed like they followed him. It became a daily occurrence to meet eyes with one at least twice, standing on a poorly lit street lamp. A murder of crows all for himself. He hardly considered it company, but that's what it felt like.

Every time, he remembers what they mean as an omen. And, every time, he loses a bit of peace of mind.

Eventually, day to day, he feels a sickness from overthinking, though it's abruptly halted when he looks up from the ground and to the door, then to the last classmate about to leave the room, then to her.

Something prideful within tells him to have the last laugh and leave the room first, since she's already strapping her bag. Riku wavers from thought to thought, until he snaps out of it with a hand on the door. When he walked there, not even he noticed. The only realization he has is how petty he looks.

"You… you're her, you're not made up. I've found you,"

Her approaching steps urge him to think faster, because who knows when he'd have this opportunity again.

"Are you expecting something from me?" She steals the chance to speak before he does. Her presence is so underwhelming and absent on class, why did it felt so invasive up close? A _quiet_ invasive, unstopping, serene. Her voice never rose in volume, and that only aided to unnerve him.

"Namine, that's your name," Riku breathes out, feeling his mouth dry. "You're the one that's been sending me those… _things_ , to follow me around, aren't you?" He suddenly feels more courage; it's shown in the way he fixes his posture, towering over her.

She doesn't reply, and instead goes for the door, trying to slide it despite knowing her efforts would be futile with him standing in the way. Riku doesn't mean to, but ends up grabbing her forearm. Although, his grip is barely there, having fear of hurting her and leaving a mark; after all, she did seem so helpless and petite. Physically, at least.

"Aren't you the one that's been wishing for more fitting company?"

"Don't call me lonely if you are too."

"You wouldn't know that."

It's exasperating how she always manages to have the last word that left him in confusion, just when he started to feel control over the situation.

"And I'm not a witch," Namine steals back her arm, pushing him aside with her shoulder now that he seemed partly stunned. "That's a whole different term. But you can use it, I guess." She speaks as if she doesn't blame them for ignorance.

Namine is a handful of steps into the corridor when he finally leaves the classroom, hurrying to catch up to her in a growing urgency. His voice reaches her, he's positive, but she's unresponsive until he's already caught up.

"You're very persistent…" She trails off with a soft frown.

"I've been told, yeah,"

Riku grips the strap of his bag tighter, walking next to her to the exit and onto the streets. He's loss at words, blaming no one but himself for rushing things without previously thinking what he'd even ask her. She wasn't enthusiastic, but she seemed willing. Or at least she'd humor him further until she neared her bus stop.

There's a side of him that refuses to believe she's somewhere near human. A side that converts her into a make-believe tale, a swan maiden at midnight— no, a raven maiden. She's made a believer out of a sworn incredulous; she's terrifyingly serene on control. Of herself and him.

"Just tell me one thing." His voice is barely audible and exhausted. "Are you human?"

"Only when you want me to."

That night he didn't dream of her, because he didn't sleep at all.

In the daze Friday noon conjures, Riku rests on his desk, heavy with fatigue and thought. He still has impatient questions, and putting them on hold sounded closest to a personal hell. He's tried to make sense of her ambiguousness; what Namine's spoken of and, ultimately, what she even is. A clumsy, last minute theory slipped to his mind. What if someone who'd taken particular dislike of her began the gossip? Then again, on his perspective, it was hard to digest she could ever do something to be hated for. It sounded unreal, unlikely, but he guesses it's not impossible.

A snap of someone's fingers cut his spaced out expression. Sora, about to fall from his desk, leans to mention how distraught he looked today, all in an imprudently loud whisper. Earning nothing but an unconvincing reassurance, he falls back into his seat, behind Riku. _He's been so distracted lately_ , he notes, and decides to tell Kairi later.

On the other hand, Riku's never felt like he's focused on something this intensely before, and that irked him. He hasn't taken his eyes off her. It's especially frustrating to know this was the only class he'd have with her today before leaving. Namine could feel his stare, he's convinced.

Riku looks like a kid. Insistent, awkward, and bored to death. Writing on a ripped paper with that neat handwriting of his, unlike Sora's, but not quite as pretty as Kairi's, he crumples the note. For a moment, he almost discarded it, but reminded himself how short on time he was. Instead of throwing it over her shoulder in an old school fashion, he reaches for an opening on her bag.

Or rather, he intended to. Her hand's quick to grab his wrist, making him almost lose balance. There's a thud when his free hand grabs the desk top's edge, not too loud, but enough for Kairi to hear it. She turns to her left and, in some sort of confusion and mocking, brings a hand to her lips to stop any sound from coming. It all boils into wonder, seeing Namine's hand slide from his wrist to his palm, stealing the paper. Immediately after, he withdraws, and so does she.

He runs that same damned hand through his hair. Saying that was the scare of his life would be an understatement.

In perspective, it would've been smart to foresee her reflexes were exceptional, but when you look like her, it's difficult to think you're any good at anything physical at all. Riku opts to leave the spot-on predictions to her.

Everyone stands up almost in unison at the sound of a ringing bell. Everyone except him. If someone were to tell him he was stuck in an alternate reality, he wouldn't doubt it. Shuffling on his feet, he grabs his bag and dusty book, borderline resigned and already thinking of ways to forget the past month or two. But he knows himself better than to do that.

He mouths Sora and Kairi he'd catch up later, after seeing the inquisitive glance over their shoulders. By any means, Riku isn't a convincing liar. Either way, they know he's always been one to need his own space and silence. Sometimes, they wondered if he felt out of place with people as easy-going as them. He denied so.

"Riku," She says in a breath, and no one's ever said his name like that before. _Like a spell_.

Her fingers hold up the paper, reading: _What to do if I want my wish granted?_

"I've told you," He flinches. "I already did."

"How so?" Almost afraid to, he asks.

"I've kept you company."

There she goes again, claiming to know a thing about loneliness when she herself has denied hers. He tries to put a finger on why she'd ever think that of him; Namine must have seen him with the two extroverts, so why is she still persistent? It almost offends him, if it weren't for the odd feeling on the pit of his stomach signaling something, alerting him of some upcoming truth. He's had enough of not sorting anything out. He takes a step forward.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Her eyes become bluer, if even possible, at his question.

"You've told me so in a dream, I think."

He notices the change on her voice. It's softer, calmer, and more lonesome than his. It's then when Riku realizes her intents didn't come from a place of generosity, but something more selfish. It wasn't he who needed the extra company, it was her. Not to say she had completely deceived him; there's always been a presence of sorts missing on the short time he's lived. Though, he doesn't rush his conclusions yet.

"I wouldn't remember…"

Namine looks so simultaneously collected and raw, the bareness of her words almost impossible to distrust. "You're not meant to."

Riku figures she's right, somehow. Whether how honest she is being, he's decided he's doubted her enough. So what if they're selfish? If they crave for a company they never knew they needed?

"I can walk you home, if you want."

Had he not offered that, he would've never seen her with an expression close to a smile. Never does he realize he has stopped being followed and stared by crows ever since he's neared her.

Though, something tugged on his uneasiness. The presumed witch _did_ ask for something in return for her deeds. For the sake of his sanity, Riku takes his own time invested on her as his offering. She never cleared that up. He wouldn't dare to ask, despite the drained state he found himself in progressed further. _Like a spell_ , or a curse.

* * *

Quick, vague and open ended namiku one-shot / drabble to get back into the swing of things. I've posted this on ao3 under the same username. Thank you for reading.


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